This is bad. Really, really bad.
"Haa...!"
A cold, rough surface pressed against my cheek. Puffs of steam clouded my vision, my eyesight blurry. Blotches of smoke curled into my nostrils.
"Haaa..."
Another ragged gasp ripped out of my chest. The heavy, metallic taste of iron hung in my mouth. I could feel it slipping away. The life inside me was slipping away.
"Hrk-hrk!"
My mouth forced itself open, a river of red spilling onto the floor. I looked down.
It can't be... all that blood is... mine?
A pounding headache ensured. One so sharp I felt myself losing consciousness.
It's so hot.
I tensed my arms, hoping to scrape myself out of the mist. They didn't move. My arms hung limply at my side.
"Arghhhh!"
Not like this...
Uncle. Aunt.
I grit my teeth. I couldn't let it end like this. There was something I had to do. Something I needed to make sure of. If my hands don't work, then... my face will do.
I scraped my face against the coarse ground, inching forward as the cold gnawed at my skin. The fog thinned, and through the mist, a young boy came into view. He stood frozen, staring at me with wide, horrified eyes.
So he's safe. I managed a light smile. Poor kid.
I pushed through the pain, the world spinning around me, and suddenly, it all became clearer. The world grew bright, and I saw them. My mom and dad—two faces I hadn't seen in years.
Ah. So this is what it's like... for your life to flash before your eyes.
Did you see that, Mom? Dad? I saved someone...
Are you two... proud of me?
Just then, I closed my eyes for the final time.
.
.
.
Before all this, I had a life... a regular life. My name was Akio Silva. Fifteen years old. Half-Japanese, half-Portuguese. My parents moved from Japan to England when I was young, and I've lived there ever since.
I was only seven when I lost both of them in a train accident. I still remember it like it was yesterday. The screech of twisting metal filled the air, and the world seemed to crumble around me. In that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same.
That's what drew me so sharply to my hobbies. To escape.
Books became my refuge. Reading light novels, manga and watching anime about fun childhoods and happy families. Those stories, those characters, gave me something to hold onto. They made me feel like my parents hadn't really gone, that they were still out there, watching over me. I needed that. I clung to it.
My favourite was family x spy - a manga turned anime about a master spy who must create a fake family to complete his undercover mission. Even though that family was fake, the bonds and emotions they shared felt genuine. It reminded me of how my own family used to be.
After the accident, I moved in with my newlywed aunt and uncle. They did their best to care for me, but it wasn't easy. I wasn't the same kid anymore. I couldn't just 'move on'.
I didn't talk much. I didn't want to. I'd learned to shut myself off—no friends, no real conversations. Only when I needed something did I speak.
I gradually warmed up to my aunt and uncle. I didn't have parents. And I'd never have parents again. But. I had them. And, over time, I'd learned that that was enough.
It wasn't until a few years later—when I was ten—that my aunt suggested I join a track team or pick up an instrument. Something, she said, to help me connect with others. Reluctantly, I tried. Slowly, I started talking to kids at school and attending clubs. The walls I'd built around myself began to crack.
By high school I'd managed to make much more friends. Truthfully though, I always felt disconnected. As if I never quite fit in. Maybe I just didn't manage to find my crowd.
It was around this time in my first year of high school when I fell in love with biology as a subject. Genetics, evolution, microbiology, botany, medicine, molecular biology; studying each field in biology was like exploring a new world. A world in which even the smallest components were unfathomably complex and unique.
I had participated in a few biology competitions, projects and even released a few papers on genetics and molecular biology. That fact usually impresses people until I tell them I researched into biology papers during my lunch and break times. Then they just stare at me like I'm an alien or some sort of mutated human.
Apart from upcoming track meets, the thing I was most excited for was undoubtedly my biology degree in a few years from now. It was something I'd been looking forward to for a while now. Unfortunately, one fateful day the course of my life was permanently derailed.
One step. Two step. One step. Two step. On that day, I found myself gliding through the walkway's of London with a familiar rhythm as my guide and the early morning sun as my audience. The air was crisp and a bone-chilling wind fluttered through the streets - challenging every early morning runner's discipline.
I wasn't worried about the cold however, you could even say I was comfortable. Running early in the morning was like second nature to me now - I'd long gotten used it.
It was on a day like this when I saw a group of kids gleefully walking in file behind their school teacher. They probably had some sort of school trip planned—that would explain their cheerful smiles. One little boy at the front in particular was especially happy.
He was positioned to the left of his teacher & uncomfortably close to the road. I could see the boy using his left hand to wave a small orange ball around to show off to his friends. His classmates around him stared at the orange ball in awe.
Just then, the ball escaped his small hands. With a determined spirit of its own, and a few unlucky bounces, the ball fell straight onto the heart of the road. Without a second thought, the little boy darted after it, his tiny legs propelling him onto the road.
BEEEP!
His female teacher, caught unaware, could only shout for him to return but her pleas were drowned out by a truck's blared horn. The little boy had frozen.
Time slowed to a crawl, but my instincts burst out in a sudden frenzied pace. Already in my stride, I was hot out the blocks and bee-lined straight towards the young boy.
A newfound strength surged within me as I reached out towards the boy. He stumbled towards me, trying his best to move despite his fear. Just a bit more. Just slightly closer.
Skkrrrrr!
The mechanical titan curved slightly, its wheels distorting unnaturally. With some bought time by the truck driver, I kept reaching forward hoping to reach the young boy.
Just a little further and...
I brought my hand back and pushed forwards with enough strength to push the boy back onto the pavement, where his teacher stood in shock.
BEEEEP!
Reality had dawned on me. I quickly realised two cold, harsh truths.
The first being that I couldn't escape certain impact.
The second being that this was going to be my last moments here on earth.
For an instant, everything was snapshot still. The expressions of the petrified children and the teacher's frightened gaze was as clear to me as their faces on that day.
As the world blurred, memories of my parents... of my life... flooded my mind. That scene of my parents lying on the brink of death as I cried out to the world replayed in my head countless times.
"Why did you save me... Why mom!? Why dad!?"
It was strange. I think I understood what they were thinking back then. Because now, only one thing mattered to me.
'This boy will live.'
I couldn't help but smile bittersweetly.
'I'm sorry aunt. I'm sorry uncle. I'm sorry mam. I'm sorry dad. I'll repay you all in my next life.'
.
.
.
Darkness. Endless, impenetrable darkness stretched out before me, like a vast, empty canvas. It seemed to go on for miles—though, truthfully, I had no way to accurately measure the distance.
So, this is what it means to be dead, I thought. Oddly enough, death wasn't the silent void I'd imagined; it was unexpectedly loud.
My previous perception of death had been that it was the end. That was that. Nothing to see. Nothing to touch. Nothing to taste. Nothing to smell. Nothing to hear. Just nothing.
This strange bawling sound I could hear was starting to get on my nerves though. I wonder if the grave has a noise complaint department? If so, I think I would like to get in touch - not that I was sure I could even touch anything right now.
Much to my irritation, the noise grew louder, pulsing rhythmically until it morphed into a persistent cry - like that of an especially irritating baby.
Suddenly, the black canvas burst into a cascade of vivid colours painting a scene I most definitely wasn't expecting.
The most prominent of these colours was a bright white light piercing through the centre of my vision. An unnatural blurriness likely spurred by the striking white light made it so I could only make out a few things.
Truthfully, I really wasn't sure where I was or what exactly was going on. I did, however, have one very frightening suspicion. A terrifying hunch even I was struggling to believe.
I wasn't dead.